


say you'll be there (i'm giving you everything)

by Beeze



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape Aftermath, a character study more than anything really, a couple that listens to spice girls together stays together, and a relationship study, spoilers for 1x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 16:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beeze/pseuds/Beeze
Summary: If she wanted to have this baby, to protect it, she would have to leave everything. She could never call her mom or see her sister or hold Billy’s face in her hands, kiss his shoulder until he woke up and smiled at her with that lopsided twist of his lips. She’d never hear his voice in her ear whispering how much he loved her.Becca Butcher would die.But her baby would live.





	say you'll be there (i'm giving you everything)

**Author's Note:**

> Billy/Becca got my fucked up y'all. When he told Hughie that Becca would hum the Spice Girls after he had already done his ICONIC Spice Girls pep talk- I was done. Truly done. And yes, the title is a Spice Girls song. You're welcome.
> 
> I played fast and loose with the timeline re: assault, disappearance, birth, etc. I felt like the show contradicted itself in a couple scenes, but maybe I just need to rewatch. WHATEVER. And of course, we don't know what REALLY happened to Becca after she disappeared so I took some creative licenses, especially with the birth because fuck that Twilight body breaking shit oh my god! I really hope season 2 gives us Becca's perspective. I'm truly curious as to what went on from her end and what her mindset was. 
> 
> Anywho, this was written and edited in the span of an hour or so. I'm sure there are some errors I didn't catch. FORGIVE ME!

When she had stood outside that office, one heel dangling between her fingers and her shirt untucked from her skirt, she hadn’t felt anything. It wasn’t real. Everything that had just happened- it wasn’t real. 

That got her back to her own office. That got her to readjusting her clothes and it had got her down to the parking garage and into her car. It got her all the way home even. Billy wasn’t home. She didn’t know if she thought that was a good thing or a bad thing. Terror perked up as she walked through the door, wagging his tail and slobbering over the wooden floors. Becca ignored him as she kicked off her shoes and peeled her clothes from her body. She climbed into the shower before she turned the water on. It was icy cold when it hit her in the face, but she turned the faucet to as hot as she could stand. She scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed- and none of it was enough. 

She could never tell anyone. No one would believe her. And even if they did, what would happen? Nothing. He was a superhero. Worshipped and loved, beloved and idolized. And who was she? A nobody. 

It didn’t matter. No one could know. Billy could never know. 

Thinking of Billy, strong and gentle, crass and sweet, broad and sharp, made her heart squeeze. She knew what he would do. She knew he would never let this go. And it would kill him. So she would never tell him. 

-

“Talk to me, Becca.” His voice was rough, and she could hear the sadness and the frustration within it. 

She thought she had been doing so good. Hiding it so well. Sure, she had quit her job (she could never go back there). Sure, she was withdrawn and sometimes when Billy reached out for her when she wasn’t expecting it, she recoiled, her heart thundering in her chest (was this going to be a good touch or a bad touch, would it feel good or would it hurt, would it make her heart beat with anticipation or with terror).

“If you don’t talk to me, I can’t fix it.”

It hurt to look at him. She was lying to him. He loved her so much (and she loved him so goddamn much sometimes she thought her heart would burst wide open with it). 

If she told Billy what had happened, he would go after him. He would never stop until Becca had justice. She knew that about her guy. His morals and his ethics and his love for her- it would never let him stop. So she reached out for his hand and gave it a squeeze. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and forced herself to smile. “I know I’ve been distant and off. I don’t know what’s wrong and I’m sorry.” She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. Rough and callused (but they would never hurt her. They kept her safe. He kept her safe.) 

Billy made a noise, half a cry and half a sigh, before reaching over to kiss the side of her face, kissing the shell of her ear, her neck and then her shoulder. His head lay there, his forehead resting on her and his fingers squeezed hers as if to make sure she wasn’t running away, she wasn’t disappearing entirely, she was still here. 

“I love you,” she heard him say and it broke her heart. “So fucking much.”

“I love you, too,” she told him. She meant it. It was the only thing she really meant anymore. 

-

The moment she realized she was pregnant was the moment her entire life fell apart. It had only been a week since she’d stood outside that office, frozen and numb and lost, but she stood naked in front of the mirror in her bathroom and her fucking stomach glowed red. 

It had stunned her. The only sound was Terror’s nails clicking and clacking along the floor outside the bathroom door. She slowly, very slowly, reached her hand up to her belly and softly dragged her fingertips across her skin. A red glow followed the trailing of her fingers and she choked on a gasp, a sob, a laugh, a scream? The glow disappeared. She reached up again, pressing her fingers into her skin. The glow pressed back, right beneath her fingertips. 

A baby. A fucking supe baby. Her supe baby. 

-

Vought was the only place Becca could turn. She could only imagine strolling up to Planned Parenthood and showing them the cool red glow her baby could do at one week gestation. Yeah, that would go over real fucking well. 

She knew that Vought wouldn’t truly help her. They would want to keep this as quiet as possible; they would want her to go away. 

In a way, she had been right. 

They didn’t want her to abort it. Which didn’t matter, because she wasn’t quite sure she could do it. They did want her to sign an NDA. They wanted her to go away, far, far away and have her baby in secret, raise her baby in secret. She could never tell Billy or her sister or her mother anything about it. For the rest of her life. No one could know because then he would know. 

Jonah saw a shot of redemption. Another Homelander but raised with love and compassion and empathy. An almighty being raised by someone who would love him no matter what. Madelyn just wanted this PR disaster of a fucking nightmare to be over. Sweep another train wreck under the rug. 

In exchange for signing the NDA, she would get to raise her son free from Homelander. She would have complete control over her child’s life and she would never have to deal with the man who raped her. Her son would never have to know the egomaniacal, violent and selfish rapist that had fathered him. 

So she sat on that bench and weighed her options. 

If she wanted to have this baby, to protect it, she would have to leave everything. She could never call her mom or see her sister or hold Billy’s face in her hands, kiss his shoulder until he woke up and smiled at her with that lopsided twist of his lips. She’d never hear his voice in her ear whispering how much he loved her. 

Becca Butcher would die. 

But her baby would live. 

-

She and Billy had wanted a kid. Just one. Becca had wanted a girl, and Billy said he didn’t care. As long as they were healthy, and Becca was safe. Sometimes, as she sat in the facility waiting for her baby to come term, she would run her hand across her burgeoning belly and pretend that this was hers and Billy’s baby. That he was off, cursing left and right and murmuring insults she had never heard of as he built a crib. “Ikea is Swedish for fuck you, ya fuckin’ cunts,” he would say. “Fuckin’ shit, the baby can just sleep in the bed with us, yeah? It don’t need a fuckin’ bed with bars.” 

But that reality, that perfectly crafted fantasy, was shot to hell as her baby tried to rip her open to get out. 

As they wheeled her into the operating room, she realized that her baby was panicking. It was too big and her womb was too small and it was probably hard to breathe and they just wanted out- she understood that feeling, more than most. So she talked to them. She told her son or her daughter that it was okay, that they were going to get them out, they just had to wait for a little bit, and then she would come and get them out. 

Her baby heard her. They listened to her. She felt her heart swell as the baby stopped pushing against her stomach, against her organs and bones. She could feel it moving, fidgeting, but the panicked, jerky movements of a life trying to survive had ceased. 

The C-Section was swift. She knew the doctors were as fucking terrified as she was. They wanted it to be over almost as much as she did. 

Then her baby was out. It didn’t cry, but it squawked, almost as if it wanted everyone to know it was here, but it didn’t want to put on a show. 

“It’s a boy,” Jonah told her. He handed Becca her son and she held him close to her breast. She wiped at the blood and mucus that covered his soft skin. She looked at him hard in that moment. A baby boy. Her son. The little life that fit easily in one of her arms. That little life that she had given everything and everyone up for. Was it worth it? Something in her whispered. 

“Hi,” she whispered down at him. He opened his eyes and he smiled. 

Was it worth it? The voice asked again. 

Yes, she replied as her son smiled up at her with his gummy, toothless grin. It was worth it. 

-

In the middle of the night, with her hand hanging in the bassinet that held her son next to her bed, she would wonder to herself if Billy would hate her. If he already did hate her. If he knew she had left him and if he burnt all of her things, all of their photos together, everything in their place that reminded him of her. Hell, maybe he sold the goddamn place. Maybe he ripped it apart with his bare hands. 

She wondered if he moved on. She wondered if he didn’t. If he still thought about her, if he was out there looking for her. 

She didn’t know which option she wanted, but she knew which one he deserved.


End file.
